Love
by Phantress
Summary: Christine takes a moment to reflect through a letter to Erik that shall never be read by her Maestro. Twenty years later, she finally realizes purpose and reasons behind actions.


I hope I do Christine justice, as far as conveying her emotions and thoughts. Do read and review…comment, flame away, whatever. Feedback in general is just love.

_September 4, 1900 _

_Erik,_

_Raoul has purchased tickets for the premier of Gustave Charpentier's _Louise_ for tomorrow evening. It will be my third time back to the opera house in twenty years. Everytime I went, I thought of doing this. Many would think it is nursing madness, I find it to be more of an ending. A way to conclude a drama. My conclusion. I will drop this in the sewer while walking in and imagine it floating to you, and speaking to you. _

_I feared you. I hate you now. My God Erik, but, I love you simultaneously. You have ruined my life. You have completed my life. You_ started _my life. I told you once that I had given you my soul, and as a consequence, I was dead. That is only one of the many things I was wrong about. I had been dead, and you in fact, gave me my soul. Irony is a cruel beast. _

_When I left you, my lips seared for weeks. I had to remind myself to bring my hand down from where I would slightly touch them, remembering. We fled Paris, and were married in England a month later. There were many times I thought back to my promise to be your wife, your_ living wife. _Poor, unhappy Erik. What did I do to you? You told me to return and bury you- Erik, a thousand times I wept for I did not fulfill that vow. I thought for sure I would be damned for eternity for breaking my promise to an angel. _

_But, you were a man. Simply. I see this now._

_I thought of you every day since we fled Paris – I think of you daily now, still. Raoul always knew of my devotion to you, that often the tears I shed were not for the reason I claimed them to be, but for you, because of you. He stood by me, Erik, always. My life has been picturesque to mortal's eyes._

_After Raoul's family found out about Philippe's suspicious death, Raoul was deprived of the title of Count. We did not live as paupers (for Raoul would not have allowed that) but we lived comfortable lives. I was never without. Seeing that London was not a city that suited our lifestyle, we went to Brittany. We remained there until just last year, raising our family._

_I weep now as I write this, for almost every place life took me, I thought of you. I thought of the way you were when I would stay down in the cellars and remain for days at a time. _

_Erik, did you long for children? A family? I never told you this – I never told you many things at all – but, when you were calm, and spoke gently with me, I would close my eyes and imagine it was my father speaking to me. Perhaps given the chance you would have made a most kind Father to some fortunate child._

_Raoul and I gave our children very traditional Scandinavian names, paying homage to my childhood. In the early mornings, I would wrap up my son Peter and carry him outside through our little garden and sing softly to him. I would whisper stories, too, of Persia that you once told me. Childishly, I would watch the forest around me, waiting to hear a distant violin, or a face to carry me away from monotony. _

_That is not to say I was_ unhappy_ with Raoul. He was, and remains to be, the most wonderful husband a wife can be blessed with. We had four children after Peter. Emelie was second. She was a spirited child that I wish I had been. She would spend hours outside with her older brother, drawing images in the sand and socializing with other children in our town. Elsa had always been a sickly child. With our reasons, Raoul and I spoiled her terribly coddling her, protecting her. Somehow, we failed. She died at only seven, stolen from us by pneumonia. I thought bitterly, ironically, upon her death she had been the same age I had been when my Papa died. The same year I died, in a sense. I was expecting our last when we were robbed of Elsa. That last child is what kept me alive during the months that followed. Raoul tried desperately to comfort me, however, I knew my depression was more then the loss of a child. I searched for solace in the fact that she was now with you and my true Father, and you could care for her. He could play the violin, and you could sing her to sleep with your voice…it is _your_ voice that would make angels weep, it was never mine, angel. _

_That was not the first time your memory helped me through hardships._

_Peter, Emelie, Johan and Anna are grown now. All with families of their own, save Emelie who revels in the idea of being an old maid and an enigma to the town. Spirited, that one._

_It is with humiliation I admit that I envied my children's courtship with others, and marriages. How simple and innocent there's were! That is not to say I ever wished adversity on them._

_I never told them of mine._

_Alone again after so many years, Raoul has regressed back to his charming, boyish youth. Surprising me with little gifts, or flowers. Last week, it was opera tickets._

_My reasons for writing such an unorganized, scrawl of information is unknown to me. Though, would you not have cared to see how my life had turned out? Reassurance that you had made the right choice by letting me go. _

_It was not until recently that I realized the depth of your sacrifice. Your decision to return me to the light, and to the world. And now, I bless your name everyday for realizing it was the best thing. You are an unaccredited genius. I pity the world, for they never heard your music. _

_Music that redefined the simple word. Similarly, you redefined love. If I learned one thing from you, ever, I see that true love is sacrifice. _

_I have seen it through Raoul, I have seen it through you._

_I should ask forgiveness then, from both of you! For, due to this additional part of the definition, love is never something I have properly reciprocated to anyone in my life._

_I am a child, eternally._

_And on that note…._

Eternally_ your's,_

_Christine Daae_


End file.
